Twisting Thoughts and Whispering Kisses
by Alex Damien
Summary: Camus is not good with words, but he declares his love with every touch.


Camus noticed Milo's breathing slowed, stabilized, signaling that Milo had fallen asleep.

Yet, he still could not. He turned to lie on his left, turning his back to Milo. Great, now the other was asleep and Camus had still not said anything, and by the time morning came it would be too late to respond. Hell, it was already too late to respond. But what was he supposed to answer to Milo whispering "I love you. Gods, why do I love you so much" against his skin? Did Milo even expect an answer? Either way, Camus had not given any.

But he couldn't give something he didn't have, and he had no answer to the question of why this love had flared up between them. If Milo had no idea, then Camus had even less of one.

And that bothered him. Why was it that he was so drawn to the other one? Why did every playful wink of Milo's eyes make his chest just and his body feel lighter? Why could he not will his hands away from Milo whenever the other got too close to him? A light touch, a casual embrace, a playful touching of the fingers…As if even as close as they were, they gravitated closer, until only their skin separated them.

Camus turned to lay on his back. It bothered him to think of how easily it all had happened. How they seemed to just flow closer and closer, two tendrils of life suddenly entwining. He huffed and turned to lay on his right side, staring at the shadowy figure of Milo's sleeping body.

The last light of the dying candle standing on the bedside table shone a pale light that highlighted Milo's skin.

He had tanned some more lately, as he worked with Aldebaran and Shura on the reconstruction of the Taurus temple, while Camus, locked up day after day on the basements of the sanctuary checking the damage of the books, scrolls, and other invaluable objects, had only grown paler.

The candle finally died off, and shadows fell on both of them. With a sigh, Camus turned around to lay on his left side again, staring at the window where some moonlight slipped through the slightly open curtains. They hadn't closed them right…had they been having sex with the curtains open? The idea enraged Camus. How had he not realized that? He huffed, glaring at the window as if it had been at fault for him being too focused on tearing off Milo's clothes to care enough to close the curtains.

Stupid window, stupid curtains, stupid racing heart that jumped with every touch of skin against skin…

Milo moved behind him, shifting and pushing himself up until he hovered over Camus.

"Camus, I love you, but my love is only enough to endure your snoring, not all this moving and turning around and around like a rotisserie chicken," he whispered in a half asleep voice, and placed a fleeting kiss on Camus' lips. "Now go to sleep."

He went back to his side of the bed, turning his back on Camus, who gritted his teeth in annoyance.

 _That._ It was exactly that ease to just bare his feelings that Camus felt so completely impossible for himself. And what was he going to say now? _'I know. Me too, but you're the one who snores'_?

He huffed again and glared at the ceiling. _'I know. Me too.'_ Was that all he could think to say about that? About them? About this strange racing of his heart and the tingling of his lips whenever Milo kissed him?

' _I know'._ I know you love me. Somehow you do. Why I don't know. I don't think you know either, but then…you don't really care, do you?

' _Me too'._ I love you too. I love you. I love you. I love you, and three words do not feel like enough to contain what I feel. He could say it a thousand times. He could say it and it would come from the deepest corner of his heart. But still it could not convey what he wanted Milo to know.

He turned around and slid closer to Milo, pressing himself against Milo's back and draping an arm around him. Milo shuddered.

"Stupid cold feet," he mumbled, half asleep, rubbing their entwined legs together.

Camus couldn't help but smile at the sound of Milo's voice. A joy spread from his chest at the sound of it. A joy unlike anything else he had ever known in life.

He pressed a soft kiss to Milo's shoulder, because he loved him.

He pressed a kiss to Milo's neck, because he loved him more than he has ever loved anyone.

He kissed him on the cheek, because he has loved him for so long, he no longer knows when he started loving him.

Milo sighed deeply and stretched.

"You're not going to go to sleep, uh?" asked Milo, smiling at him.

Camus buried his face against Milo's neck, a declaration of love in that embrace too. A declaration of love in every touch.

"No."


End file.
